


your favorite spot (just next to me)

by norgaard



Category: Black Sails
Genre: F/F, Post-Canon, lol i don't even know what this is just. take it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2019-01-05 07:22:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12185529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/norgaard/pseuds/norgaard
Summary: A late night, a half-expected visitor, and a step forward.





	your favorite spot (just next to me)

**Author's Note:**

> title from beyoncé's "forward"
> 
> just had to get this one off my chest.

It’s late.

Nassau hasn’t changed much, not really, and so the nights are still loud and vibrant, the streets brimming with laughter and shouts and rum until the early hours of the morning. Max doesn’t sleep until the town does, busy as she is holding court, pulling strings, keeping this place safe and stable and hers.

The sky has not yet begun to lighten, but it’s a close thing by the time Max returns to her quarters. With weary hands, she removes her laces, her buckles, her pins, allows herself to become undone. Dressed only in her thin shift, her skin prickles with the lazy, damp breeze coming off the harbor as she crosses in front of the open window to extinguish the candles, and as she all but collapses onto the bed, she burrows into the covers, grateful.

She supposes she must have slept, because when she sits up at the sound of the floorboard just outside her door creaking, the room is a touch brighter, illuminated by the gentle touch of the pale dawn. The wood creaks again, and Max’s heart flutters, and then there's a soft knock at the door.

Max tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, inhales, exhales. “Come in.”

Time seems to stretch for a moment, then two, and then the door opens, and the sound of Anne’s boots quiet as she steps onto the threadbare carpet.

Max is still, hushed, waiting, as Anne moves through the room with a delicacy, as if walking on shattered glass. Her hair falls over her face as she bends to toe off her boots near the window, and Max has the absurd thought that it must be drinking in the light of the early morning, swallowing it whole.

“Didn't expect t'get back this late,” Anne says, half to the floor. "Thought you'd be asleep."

“I was,” Max responds, evenly, with no bite to her words, accepting an apology Anne hasn’t offered.

Anne half grunts, half hums in response, as she unceremoniously shucks her coat. She pauses, her gaze skittering up to meet Max’s, eyes startlingly bright. They hold one another’s eyes for a breath before Anne strips off her shirt and trousers and makes her way to Max with a deliberateness that makes Max’s throat feel thick.

Wordlessly, Anne throws back the covers and crawls into the bed. The mattress dips with her weight, and something fragile in Max’s chest collapses.

Anne scoots closer, curling onto her side, and, upon meeting Max’s watery eyes, closes the distance entirely and inserts herself into Max’s arms, entwining one hand with hers, nose pressed against the crook of her neck. She still smells like the sea.

Max lets out a shuddery laugh, thick with emotion and tears and relief, and squeezes Anne’s hand. Anne curls her fingers a little tighter around Max's, and makes no move to let go.

Outside, the sunrise draws ever closer.

**Author's Note:**

> i can't believe max and anne invented love and romance
> 
> more to come with these two, i'm sure. maybe one day i'll spend more than an hour on a fic l o l


End file.
